


Scoring on the Rebound

by TajaReyul



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Het, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-15
Updated: 2013-12-15
Packaged: 2018-01-04 18:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1084191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TajaReyul/pseuds/TajaReyul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Having just been dumped by her first real boyfriend, Penelope isn't looking for a new relationship, but Oliver has other ideas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Scoring on the Rebound

**Author's Note:**

> Written for interhouse_fic and the prompt "Penelope and Percy have just broken up, and Penelope is far too much the sensible Ravenclaw to go looking for something on the rebound — it just happens, anyway."

The end, when it came, was quiet and civilised. No one shouted or threw things or cried. Penelope had known from the start that she and Percy weren't meant to be together for the long haul, but she'd fooled herself into believing they could build upon the things they had in common and their mutual attraction.

Instead, they'd had a discussion in which he'd explained that although he didn't personally agree that there was anything undesirable about Muggle-borns, it had been made clear to him that continuing their relationship would damage his career. She'd said that she understood and quietly Summoned those belongings of his that he'd left laying about her flat. He'd walked out without a backward glance.

Penelope couldn't say she was devastated by the break up. It some ways it was a relief not to have Percy's disapproval, however mild, of the hours she worked at her apprenticeship--never mind all the times when he'd had to cancel one of their dates because he'd felt the need at the last minute to work overtime drafting a report. She did notice, however, that her flat was emptier without his things and she was lonelier without his quiet presence in her life.

After volunteering for a few extra shifts at St. Mungo's, giving her flat a very thorough cleaning and reorganising her book collection, she decided she needed to get out. When walks in the park, museum visits and retail therapy failed to distract, Penelope flipped through _The Prophet_ on her tea break, searching for entertainment. The wizarding pub in Tinworth was hosting a trivia night on Tuesday, but she didn't have three friends she could tap to form a team, at least not on such short notice. The Hog's Head was kicking off Karaoke Night. Penelope wasn't much of a singer, but that might be interesting. She turned the page. The Falmouth Falcons had a match upcoming against Puddlemere United. She hadn't been to a Quidditch match since she left school. The more she thought about it, the more attractive the idea seemed. 

Penelope went to Quality Quidditch Supplies to buy her ticket. The line was long, so she wandered up and down the aisles, browsing the merchandise until her attention was drawn to a large display of calendars. _The Men of the British and Irish League_ read the banner over the display.

"You should buy one," a male voice with a slight Scottish burr said from right behind her left shoulder.

She turned slightly; her gaze collided with hazel eyes set in a ruggedly handsome face. "Oliver Wood, I haven't seen you since school. You may not remember me, I'm--"

"Penelope Clearwater. It hasnae been so long that I'd forget the lass who was Head Girl of my year. How have you been? You and Percy Weasley still together?"

She went still. "Well enough and no, we're no longer together," she answered politely.

"His loss. Too bad a dozen OWLs don't necessarily equal good sense." His tone was sympathetic.

"Mm," she said non-committally. "What about you? Still on Puddlemere's reserve squad?"

"Technically, but our Keeper is out for the rest of the season with a head injury, so I'm starting this Saturday."

"I'll look forward to watching you play, then."

His face inexplicably brightened. "Do you have your tickets already?"

"No, that's why I was here, but the line was long..." She trailed off when he grimaced.

"Och, you'll nae get decent seats at this late date. The team gets free tickets to give out to, well, whomever we wish. Would you consent to be my guest?"

"Oh," she blinked, taken aback. "I—" Penelope floundered for a response. Did she want to be Wood's guest? Would he expect something of her in return?

"Just the match and maybe dinner afterwards--if you want, of course--if I don't get injured," he correctly deduced the reason for her hesitation. "Nothing else."

"I didn't mean—that is, I would like to be your guest, for the match and maybe for dinner afterwards. It's just that Percy and I, we only broke up a fortnight ago. I'm not ready to leap into another relationship."

He grinned mischievously. "I wouldnae mind terribly being your rebound shag," he held up his hands with a little head shake, "but I'm satisfied to be a friend."

Penelope smiled. "Thanks, Wood. A friend is exactly what I need right now."

"First of all, if we're friends, you should call me Oliver. Second, you really should buy a calendar, and not just because I'm Mr. September. The proceeds benefit the victims of that freak hurricane this summer."

"That was horrible, wasn't it? I heard the damage extended all the way to Tutshill."

"It did. One of the Tornados lost his Muggle wife and their toddler," he said gravely.

"Well, I suppose since you've saved me the price of a ticket, I can part with the funds to buy a calendar."

It wasn't until she got home and looked at it that she realised it was a series of (tastefully done) nude photos. She couldn't resist opening it to September. Oliver stood, turned three-quarters away from the camera, his face in profile. Her eyes followed the sculpted muscles of his back down to his delectable arse and back up. He turned his head to glance over his shoulder and quirk his eyebrow at the camera. Penelope smiled in spite of herself.

The day of the match dawned bright and clear in London, but when Penelope arrived at the Apparition point near the Puddlemere pitch, it was grey and drizzly. She pulled the hood of her woollen cloak up and gave her name at the gate. One of the ticket takers handed her a badge to pin to her cloak and escorted her to the private box set aside for guests of the team.

The box was crowded, but she was able to secure one of the seats down front. The largest concentration of witches close to her age congregated at the back of the box. Penelope glanced at them, but didn't know any of them well enough to introduce herself, so she settled in to watch the match. Once the whistle blew to start the match, and until the Snitch was caught, she was enthralled. She'd not watched professional Quidditch before. It was much rougher and definitely faster-paced than Quidditch had been at Hogwarts. Puddlemere won handily, despite a valiant effort by Falmouth. Afterwards, the man who'd escorted her to the private box came to take her to Wood.

"So, did you enjoy it?" he asked her, still euphoric from Puddlemere's win.

"I did." She found herself smiling widely. Oliver's good mood was infectious.

"The Quidditch wives didn't ruin it for you, I hope?"

"You mean that group of witches and one wizard who sat at the back of the box and gossiped through the whole match? They didn't say a word to me."

"Rather rude of them, but they can be proper harridans when they wish, so perhaps ignoring you was for the best."

"It doesn't matter. I was there to watch the match, not socialise."

"Do you want to go somewhere and talk about the bits you liked the best?"

"When you asked me to be your guest today, you said something about dinner," she said hopefully.

"That I did. There's a Muggle pub in Ilkley that's rather a favourite of mine if that's all right?"

"It sounds lovely."

They talked well into the evening, and not just about Quidditch. Oliver asked about her work at St. Mungo's and listened attentively while she told him about the Healers overseeing her training. She asked what it was like growing up in the magical world and was surprised to discover his mum was a Muggle.

"My biggest regret has been that she's never been to see me play," he said with a sigh.

"Why doesn't your dad bring her to one of your matches?"

"Dad is...not well," he said, his gaze sliding away from hers.

Impulsively, she reached for his hand. "I'm sorry," she said, meaning it.

He held her hand for a minute and then said, "That's enough depressing talk for one evening. Do you want pudding? They make a Yorkshire pudding with caramel sauce that's positively sinful."

"Not tonight. I'm rather full and," she glanced at her watch, "I'm meeting my parents for Sunday dinner tomorrow. I don't want to show up looking dissipated."

"You should have said something sooner--"

"No," Penelope cut across his apologetic words. "I was enjoying myself, and for the first time in a long time, to be honest."

So Oliver settled the bill and they went out into the chilly evening.

"Are you safe to Apparate?" he asked her, a slight frown marring his brow.

"I only had the one ale. I'll be fine."

"All right." He paused, and then taking a breath, he said, "Penelope, I enjoyed dinner tonight and I think I even flew better this afternoon, knowing you were in the stands, cheering me on. I know you're not ready for a relationship yet, but I'd like to see you again."

"I think...I'd like that too. Send me an owl."

They gradually began dating, first meeting once a week for dinner and the next Puddlemere home match a month later. When the day came that Penelope had to owl and cancel one of their dates because she had to cover for another trainee, Oliver showed up a the hospital with takeaway curry. She returned the favour the next week by cooking him dinner at her flat. They started meeting for lunch whenever his practise schedule permitted. He took her to the Muggle cinema and she invited him to attend an open lecture on sports Healing with her.

Penelope never imagined that she could look forward to spending time with anyone so much. Even at the height of her relationship with Percy, there was always a tiny hint of annoyance at having to bite her tongue when her opinions diverged significantly from his. Oliver encouraged her to speak her mind and seemed to relish those times when they disagreed—not that those happened often. He had a wicked sense of humour, he always said exactly the right things, and had a great arse. She found herself softening her stance on starting a new relationship even as she realised she was in one. How the bloody hell did that happen? she asked herself, shocked. And how could she be in a relationship with someone she'd never even kissed?

Her thoughts chased one another about in her head, like jewel-encrusted nifflers, all that night and into the next day at the hospital. When the Healer overseeing Penelope's training scolded her for inattention, she had to push the problem of her feelings for Oliver to the back of her mind in order to concentrate. Returning home to her flat that evening, she started the process of organising that day's notes. Her mind kept returning to those thoughts, though, worrying them as a terrier would with a rat. When she met with Oliver the next day for lunch, she was distracted, alternating between staring off into space and watching him rather intently.

"Something wrong, Pen?" he asked mildly.

"You could say that," she admitted.

"Want to talk about it?"

"I do, but this isn't the place. Do you have time to pop 'round to my flat or do you have to get back for practise this afternoon?"

"I'm free as a hippogriff for the rest of the day."

A short walk later, she was unlocking the door to her flat over the cauldron shop. She waved her wand to light the candles. "Have a seat. Do you want something to drink?"

"I'm good. Oi, you rearranged your furniture," he said with some surprise, looking around.

She shrugged. "I felt the need for a change."

"You should have owled me. I'd have come and helped."

"It was no trouble to levitate things with my wand. Ollie..."

He took her hand and led her to the couch. "Go on, then," he invited as they sat.

"The furniture wasn't the only thing I wanted to change. Do you remember telling me you wouldn't mind being my rebound shag?" At his careful nod, she asked, "Did you mean that or was that just a joke?"

Before he could answer, there was a knock at the door.

"Who could that be at this time of day?" She rose to go answer it.

He stood with her and grasped her arm. "Penelope, have a care. It could be anyone. Best have your wand at the ready."

She started to question him, but then nodded and drew her wand. It was Percy at her door. "What are you doing here?" she asked, letting the hand holding her wand drop.

"Sod that," Oliver said, pulling her aside and pointing his wand at Percy's nose. "What did you say to Fred and George when they made the team?"

Percy flushed to the roots of his hair. "Wood, don't," he muttered.

"Answer the bleeding question, Weasley," Oliver snapped.

"I told them they'd do better to apply themselves to their studies, because as reckless as they were, their Quidditch careers were bound to be short. Satisfied?"

Oliver lowered his wand. "That you're who you appear to be, yes. No one else I know would be that much of an insensitive git to his own brothers."

"I didn't come here to dig up old grudges, Wood."

"Why did you come here, Percy?" interrupted Penelope gently.

"I came to warn you, Penny. The Wizengamot is even now debating a law that will require all Muggle-borns to register with the Ministry. I don't like the tone those arguments are taking. There's talk floating about the Ministry of excluding Muggle-borns from attending Hogwarts next year. The anti-Muggle bias that used to be at least somewhat subtle is now blatant."

Penelope just stared, openmouthed.

"I thought you should know," he finished uncomfortably.

"Thank you for bringing us this information, Weasley. I'll be sure not to let anyone know that you risked your position to tell us," Oliver said, slipping his arm about Penelope's waist for emphasis.

"Oh, I..." he trailed off, as if only just realising that Oliver had been in Penelope's flat in the middle of the day. He cleared his throat. "Right, then. I'll...just go."

"Percy," Penelope said just as her former beau turned away. "Thank you. Really. I do understand how much of a risk you took to let me know about this."

He nodded and left without looking back.

Penelope locked the door behind him and returned to her seat on the couch. Oliver joined her. "Are you all right?" he asked.

"I knew things were getting bad, but barring Muggle-borns from attending Hogwarts?"

" _That's_ what you're worried about?"

"Yes," she answered with some surprise. "So what if I have to register my blood status with the Ministry? Everyone already knows I'm Muggle-born."

"Did you never get any Muggle history lessons? Registration is just the first step. Then it won't be just Hogwarts excluding everyone without a 'pure' enough bloodline. Pretty soon you willnae be able to get a job in the magical world. Then it'll be illegal for you to do magic at all."

"That's impossible. How can they do that?"

"Penelope," he said rather sharply. "I know you think the world should make sense, my dear Ravenclaw, but it doesnae always. Sometimes, you have to have the courage to make it make sense. Until then, you have to be wise enough to keep your head down."

"What am I going to do?" she asked helplessly.

"For starters, you're not going to hang about waiting for the Ministry to make it illegal for you to exist. Do you have any relations in another country you can stay with? The Continent, Australia, Canada?"

"No," she said hollowly. "There's nobody."

"I have an idea," he said almost hesitantly, "but you may nae like it."

"More than I don't like the Ministry turning against Muggle-borns?"

He quirked his eyebrow, conceding her point. "You recall that I told you that my father's nae well? He's losing his memory, bit by bit. There's nothing the Healers can do for him. They say it's a Muggle ailment that magic can't cure. My mum has been taking care of him, but he's losing control of his magic. She cannae have anyone else in to watch him so she can go to the shops."

"You want me to stay with your parents and help take care of your dad?"

"They'll pay you," he said hastily.

"That's not what I meant. Well, money is a minor concern, but I'd help out for bed and board. We're assuming this will end someday. What if it doesn't end, Ollie? What if--"

"Have a little faith, Pen. What goes around comes around and it's going to bite those blood-purity bastards in the arse. You know the magical world cannae survive without Muggle-borns. You _know_ it. There are enough half-bloods, and purebloods like the Weasleys that know it too. It may take a little time, but we'll eventually win out."

Penelope was quiet for a moment. "Let's get started on this," she said finally. "At the very least, I need to have a plan in place. Percy may be a proper arse, but he didn't have to warn me. This might be the most Gryffindor thing he's done to date. I'd hate for that to go to waste."

"You're rather brave yourself."

"For a Ravenclaw, you mean?"

"No. You're just brave, whatever the Sorting Hat said. Pen, earlier you asked if I meant it when I said I wouldn't mind being your rebound shag. I did mean it, but I don't want to ruin our friendship. It's—you've--come to mean quite a lot to me."

She took a deep breath. "I realised today that we've been dating for over two months and we've not so much as kissed. You've done very well at respecting what I told you at the outset, but do you think a snog will ruin our friendship?"

"Might dent it a little," he said with a teasing little smile.

"I think it's worth the risk, don't you?"

"Only one way to find out."

She leaned forward to press her lips to his. One of Oliver's hands went to her waist while the other cupped the back of her head as he quickly took control of the kiss. Good lord, he was a...a _masterful_ kisser. Penelope thought. She felt herself blushing all the way down her chest, the heat of it making her feel as if she were melting.

Percy had never made her feel that way, even in their most intimate moments. She had, in fact, concluded that the romance novels she'd indulged in as an adolescent lied. Penelope had always been in control of her emotions before, and yet with just a kiss (albeit an excellent one), Oliver had swept her off her firmly-planted feet. Whimpering a little in her throat, she slid her hands from where they were splayed on his chest to the buttons on his shirt. She desperately wanted to touch his skin.

She hadn't got more than two undone when he broke off the kiss and grabbed her hands to still them. "Wait. Stop a second, Pen."

Confused and bereft, she asked, "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," he said as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "I just want to know why you're suddenly ready to—erm--jump into a relationship, so to speak."

"I'm not," she denied. "I mean, it's not sudden, not exactly. I've been thinking about it for a while now and you kiss very well and, and," she dropped her gaze, "I got carried away. I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise. Not if that's true. It is true, isn't it?"

She nodded without looking up. "If I'm going to have to go into hiding, I don't know when we're going to have another chance to see if these feelings have a chance of becoming anything."

"Pen, my feelings are already something." He tilted her chin up so he could look her in the eye. "So if this isn't anything but a rebound shag for you, you're going to hae to look elsewhere."

_Oh._

Penelope swallowed and considered her next words carefully. "I can't offer you guarantees, Oliver, not yet. I can only tell you that I care about you a great deal. If you want to wait until I'm sure, though, I suppose I can do that. I do have that calendar to keep me company."

He groaned. "Merlin, Pen, you're going to kill me. You can't just admit something like that... Look, you're going to be staying with _my_ parents. If you decide later that this was a mistake, it's going to be very uncomfortable for both of us."

"I've thought about it enough that I know I'm not making a mistake." She softened her voice, reached out and unbuttoned two more buttons on his shirt. "Oliver, I want you. I want you, naked, in my bed." She stood up, held her hand out to him and raised one eyebrow in imitation of his famous smirk. "Need more convincing? I want to touch you: your muscular shoulders; your broad chest; your beautiful back and I'd very much like to clutch your lovely arse as you fuck me into my mattress."

He grabbed her wrist and pulled her down on top of him. "We won't make it to your bed." he growled, hastily unbuttoning her robe and ripping it a little in the process. Oliver kissed her until it felt like her brain floated loose in her head. "Now tell me what you'd like me to do to you."

"Oh, I...oh," she sputtered, nonplussed.

"Come on, you were so eloquent when you were saying what you wanted to do to me. I want to know what you like, and the sound of your voice turns me on."

"It's just a new experience for me. Percy didn't want me to talk at all during sex—nothing beyond an emphatic 'yes' and his name."

"I think we can take it as given that he's a twat. Even the mention of him is killing the mood," he said pointedly.

"Sorry. You have wonderful hands, you know," she said, stroking her fingers over one callused palm. "I'd love to feel them on my bare skin."

"Gladly," he whispered and applied himself to the task.

Hesitantly at first, she murmured instructions that guided his hands to her erogenous zones. Her own hands were busy finding his as well, and soon she was straddling his thighs, riding his fingers while his thumb traced sloppy circles around her clit.

"Ollie, ohh," she sighed. "You have to stop, you're going to make me come."

"And what's wrong with that?"

With a supreme effort of will, she stilled her hips. "Nothing's wrong with that, in and of itself. I just want your cock inside me when it happens."

He closed his eyes and groaned, but removed his fingers from her cunt. He wrapped his hand around his cock and held it still so she could take him into herself. She winced a little as she stretched to accommodate his girth.

"Oh Merlin, did I hurt you, Pen?" He looked down to where they were joined and back up to her face, panicked.

"No, no, it's all right," she hastened to reassure him. "It's just been a while and you're somewhat bigger around than what I'm accustomed to."

"I thought...sorry," he muttered the tips of his ears going very red.

She rolled her hips experimentally. The slight discomfort was easing. "You thought what?"

"Wait. Wait a moment," he panted. "Fuck. You're so _tight_. For a second, I thought you might have been a virgin, at least as far as, you know, _this_ , but then I realised how stupid that idea was. Sorry," he repeated.

"Don't apologise, not for that. It's sweet that you're worried about my comfort instead of just flipping me on my back and pounding away." She leaned forward so her breasts pressed against his chest and breathed in his ear: "Sweet and oh, so very sexy."

His hips bucked underneath her and she gasped in surprise. Oliver took possession of her mouth once more. In response she lifted herself off him and slid back down. It was easier this time. He wormed his hand between their bodies to press his fingers to her clit.

"You're sexy," he countered, "those breathy little moans—mm, and the way your tits jiggle when you move." He grunted as she clenched involuntarily around him. "Oh yeah, do that again."

"This?" she tightened her pelvic muscles, making his eyes roll back in his head and wrenching a deep groan out of him. The sound sent bliss skittering along her nerve endings, and suddenly she couldn't play this teasing game any more. Digging her fingernails into his shoulders, Penelope rode him hard and wailed as a ferocious orgasm crashed through her. Before the pulses of pleasure completely faded, she felt him grip her hips tightly and thrust vigorously enough that her knees lost contact with the couch.

"Pen!" he shouted as he came.

She collapsed against him, laying her head on his shoulder. They gasped for breath in near-unison as their heart rates gradually slowed. Finally, she drew a deep breath and said, "God, that was brilliant."

"No need to call me a god, Pen. 'King' will be sufficient. 'Emperor' if you really must."

"Prat," she laughed and slapped at his shoulder.

"Ouch!"

"What?" She sat up and got a look at the red crescents she'd left in his skin. "Did I do that to you? Oh Ollie, I'm sorry."

He waved off her concern. "It's all right. I like knowing that I made you lose control like that. It's sexy."

She disentangled herself and held her hand out to him once more. "Come on then, 'Your Imperial Highness', let's hit the showers before round two, which _will_ be in my bed."

"Round two?" he asked with an anticipatory smirk.

"Mm-hmm." She nodded. "Now that we've got that rebound shag out of the way, we can start working on this relationship."


End file.
